Chain Letters
by Just Another Violent Femme
Summary: Jan. 26, 1995 is a date discussed and annotated in many circles, small and larger. Looking back it would appear now the spirits were jumpy that day. Flowing. It was unseasonably warm for mid winter in the Appalachian plateaus ... The moon quivered that night (it registered first on the lunar seismometer for the early evening JPL shift) as it held the impact from an obscured meteor
1. Chapter 1

Chain Letters

January 26, 1995 is a date discussed and annotated in many circles, small and larger. Looking back it would appear now the spirits were jumpy that day. Flowing.

It was unseasonably warm for mid winter in the Appalachian plateaus. A local storm was identified passing over the area but never opened into an extinguishing shower.

Katherine M. Gibbs of New Bedford, Ga., lost her husband, George S., at 4:54pm EST, 1/26/95, following a long illness. Emily C. Webb was resuscitated from cardiac disrhythmia under surgical anesthesia at 1:55pm PST, Vancouver Hospital Centre. George Gibbs and Emily Webb may have briefly crossed thresholds at the singular instance were death and re-birth slow to exchange their mutual respects.

The moon quivered that night (it registered first on the lunar seismometer for the early evening JPL shift) as it held the impact from an obscured meteor whose ejection from its twin companion satellite's orbit would otherwise have placed it on a straight vector towards the upper central plains of US.

What incorporeality did finally settle over Liberty's lucid surfaces that night appeared to take the form of a chain of letters among the soul-called plangent, seized for a time with the air's vibrancy.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v

Chapter 1

Dear Brian

You are the first to write me as you did this past day. I know it was your honest heart speaking to me. I know it was honest by the way it made my own heart turn and find that light, even as it still glows here this moment.

It made my throat tickle out a song I hadn't heard before. It made my feet step into a small minuet they composed just for their own enjoyment.

It was beautiful. I will remember it and I will treasure it,

Always

Angela

* * *

><p>Angela,<p>

In the past I know I have been a pain, and I am sorry. I know I am repeating myself, and I am sorry.

It's so much easier to write from behind another face - to put on a mask

I should put one on now. but I'm afraid of what I would say, and then what I wouldn't, or couldn't.

Please just know that you've already given me all the justification you ever could by your constant, tolerant .. presence

I don't mean to be the cloud stalking your day ,,,, when I can instead just be the guy down your street.

I will look for you on your bus

so, best, anonymously

B.

* * *

><p>So Angeleka,<p>

Is this really the first real letter I've ever written to you? At least one that didn't start with an immediate Hardgrowth alert in class? As I'm sure you well know, I'm not all that use to writing letters, any where, any time. I think I'm jealous now of my Emily's no-pain with a pen. I'm sure she could write a letter now that might mean something to you. Think she could throw the gossip around too, Angelfood? I mean, like us, me -like really dish it deep! Think we should give her an audition? Really, is that all she's doing up there on stage any way, all through Our Town -dishin' the Grover's dirt? (so that's why I really was the only choice for this part!). And maybe that's why Katimski is so hot on Our Town any way. The whole thing might as well be Our School! Are we Liberty Corners? Grover's Liberties? We could write that, y'know, the three of us. It might just be sublimely juicy enough for Katimski by next year! Would you work on it with me?

I wish I could call and ask and find out but I don't know that you would really even pick it up for me anymore. I know you certainly wouldn't have your heart in it anyway, right?

So well, as my better Emily-half could say, Angeleena, I hope one day soon you can look at me one minute like you really saw me, like before.

Look for us next weekend, would you? We'll be the ones off mark, babbling and rushing our lines ,.., speaking out to an audience of just a few out there.

Still your friends, y'know !

Rayanne and Emily

* * *

><p>Hey Angela, hope everything's going OK .. with all of you.<p>

You should know the three of you make a lovely triangle. Only just a little jealous here. Well I have to say something in these letters…so, Mr. Katimski is encouraging me to write! Stuff! I wasn't sure what I could write, but I do know stuff! But then I was wondering tonight if it would have been better to write you what I instead told you early this evening. But then that would have required it count for extra, like way above and beyond, extra credit, even if I were to understand it all (No, Mr. Katimski doesn't read it all .. unless I 'turn it in'!). So, you and Jordan and Brian are now all a couple? Of..? Want to be featured in the next Liberty Lit edition? (I think we all have something to really write about now,huh? Well, for the back pages!?) Sorry, probably not funny just yet. Hope I wasn't giving you too much news tonite. But then, I didn't even get a chance to deliver it all! As soon as you got out of the car, and the door closed, the car radio comes on with this 'Chase' news bulletin, about how your Uncle Chevy got arrested today in Beverly Hills! (today is 1/26, right? -getting my schedules confused here). So that kick'd up some Chase car-pizza talk - Oh that poor Angela! We even talked about turning around to let you know your uncle (Chevy) was sitting in jail, already cuff'd (I hope!) and fingerprinted, waiting for Angela to put up his bail (unless its after curfew)! Sorry! Just still think it's funny, all the car-pizza talk. Oh well, maybe Uncle Chevy wants to hear more about the family Chase restaurant business now ?! -before he sobers up !? Its not a pizza restaurant is it? Well, so temporarily outta stuff,

See you around lunch, 'Red' !? -Bring more family stories!

Rickie

* * *

><p>Hey Rayanne, looked for you after rehearsal - where'd you disappear to? Good luck with the rest of the rehearsals! You were born for the Stage - Broadway! (yes-NY, of course; not Pittsburgh's) Thornton the Milder certainly had you in mind when he graf'd Emily the kinda-wilder to that stage! Just maybe do Our Town a favor and avoid that urge to sing the closing act. Oops, not to worry-that could never count against Good Luck R.!<p>

Rickie

* * *

><p>Deare Angella,<p>

I'm goeng to try this agan. I Knoe that we talked about this tonite but I never said all that I wantd to and ment to. I think the thing I wantd most to say was I don't always knoe at first whear I get my insparatoins from.

You knoe my song-Red. Its funny how I gess some minds works. mine any way. I did this one all of my own. Writting it I mean, I wondured why the song came so eazily. It was differant from all the other songs I've started. It almost wrote itself. And I thouht when I was working on it it was about my car - so the words just poored out and I didn't reilly worry about it.

but I think now may be I wasn't even writing about my car aftur all. I think I was reilly writing it for you. Well about you. I can see that better now. May be soon I can play it agan for you. In my car !- you can drive

and lissen to me play in the back seet

and then we can trie it in your kitjen, if you want - we'll let yur mom lissen in, if you want:)

I'll be by tomorow to pick you up. we'll see may be by than if I'll have enugh nerve to give you this note

Jordan

* * *

><p>(<em>non-commercial notice:<em> For More 'So-Called' ==) A So-Called Ballad (Amazon | (K'ndle= **B006PPLIBY**)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Already with the next dawn's first light, the letters, written over the lambent skeins of the previous evening's sirened squalls, had begun to find their way towards their intended eyes.

Friday January 27th registered a blistering cold front to begin its brief accession.

As she scurried across her street, sealed letter to Brian in hand, Angela found herself exhaling a soft chorus of plaints she couldn't quite control the rhythms of just yet. She wondered if she could really in any way be like prepared for this day's arrival. Or how that could even be possible.

In just 24 hours the poles she had oriented her world by had flipped over, once anyway. Her bearings this morning seemingly pointed due-strange. A 100 word sonnet-thing-gram to Brian Krakow, delivered by first light under his door? How was that even possible in any sort of accepted, plausible universe? But then she hadn't changed her mind either about her letter's virtues, or necessity, when she re-read it first thing after waking up. And then she had stared back for awhile at the image of Anne F., keeping her station at the corner of the desk.

One firm thing she had carried away from her reading of the diary was that AF had found a way to frame all her days' dread and exhilarations assisted only by the uncompromising clauses required by her journal. And somehow that had been enough.

(Though, Angela could suppose, AF's immediate personal regards weren't quite the equivalent of say being stuck in a small room with Brian Krakow for a really long extended period (maybe like even past an hour). Those conditions would have made for quite a different diary, Angela was perhaps suggesting towards her book cover. And then sophomore English classes, like forever, as well. AF and her 'Petel' Krakow, together anywhere on the same diary page? Even if the world is burning down around you? The insatiables of just some-kinda-love could have driven even AF that half-mad? And what was Dutch for '!AAHHGGGG!" anyway? And with that Angela let her first unnerving thought experiment of the day lapse.)

OK, so now maybe was the time her own journal keeping ought to begin changing its own course. She hadn't been very consistent in committing her day's thoughts to her personal journal over the past year, as she kept intending. She had already noted the usual morning sickness, the drowsy stream-of-neuroses that regularly compelled itself first into her day, seemed to have dissipated, some, this day.

She was surprised, and relieved, that no one seemed to have stirred yet in the Krakow house as she slipped her note past the brush weather stripping sealing their front door.

And then she was back at her bedroom dressing table before anyone else in the house could start to roll into their morning routines.

With the presence of a clear quieted mind she thought maybe she could muster a few acceptable passages this morning for her journal. Something worthy of an indulgent AF over-wiew, a 'less than Frank assessment', she considered (but wisely chose not to commit to paper). And then just as quickly she found herself writing instead another letter to her first note-worthy friend,

* * *

><p>Sharon! Hey! Up early here ,,, So.. its a pretty, clear morning around these Pitt-y full parts, think? ,, for being just so absolutely miserably freakin cold and grey out, let me tell you<p>

Well so, my horrible dreams, that I told you about, like these really dark ones that felt like they could just be sneaking up here from under all that crappy snow piling up on the curb, stopped last night. Maybe they just wore themselves out I dreamt instead Iwas floating ,, really floating. Like I had stage jumped off our roof ,,, and then just got carried along on a street parade that was passing by the house ,,,I was a loose girl, for a while last nite, I can tell you ,, So just to ask, you haven't bought any new white chiffon party dresses lately have you? To replace the one you wore for your sixth birthday party? Cause that's what you, and a lot of the party, were wearing last night. And I mean like 5 layers deep, I kid you not. So I did float by then for a while last night ,,, the party was in your bedroom ,,, everyone was there ,,, well I mean like I know George Bush was there anyway. I think he may have been handcuffed to your bed ,, and that ch. 5 weather girl, only I think it was really Lisa Presley, was there trying to interview him, She was wearing her puffy white chiffons as well I'm not sure about any other handcuffs though I think she was asking him 'So how you like Pittsburgh now GB, huh?' and then his opinion of your room, since you'd re-decorated it ,,, maybe you better check out the six o'clock news tonight. It might be pretty interesting with your new finer dress chiffons and all being featured on it ,, and well, only about time!

I wanted to stay on a while longer but then I just had to be somewhere ,,, So well, you know all the talk of there being a hole in the ozone layer now? ,,, So well I found it ,,Its real - its there alright and I went through it ,, you're never going to guess what's on the other side ,,, Well apparently, to start, a few wandering space shuttles for one. With not very attentive drivers, or pilots, I found out almost right away. But maybe I was like right on the direct shuttle line or the middle of the pick-up zone or something. Cause it came right at me, and then stopped and swung open its shuttle doors. The pilot looked pretty impatient and waved me on in. Y'know, like we can't wait here all morning on your gawking, miss. So I showed him my school bus pass as I got on and he was totally cool with that. But the space shuttle was just packed for its rush hour shuttle commute, I guess. Everybody on their way somewhere. But I found this open, like torn green vinyl seat, with the cushions falling out, and sat down there. I looked out the small passenger window to see where we were we might be headed. And it was towards all these bright glittering red ruby lights. I thought it was Las Vegas for sure up ahead - next stop. But it wasn't. It was taking us to the Emerald City! I mean, like really, where else? Remember us watching the Wizard of Oz together? How many times you think? So but sorry to say this Gale friend, but apparently Our actual First Town appears to have leaned over quite a ways now over towards the glittery gultches. Its really looking like maybe the Las Vegas city council has taken over, or acquired it or something. I know I don't remember reading in the book about there being like slot machines just everywhere you go now in the Emerald City but its the first thing you hear when the shuttle doors open to let you off. And you're just like bathed in all this crimson emerald glow now wherever you do go. And so like everyone's wearing their special edition Emerald City raybans, like even Toto too. 'We'll get you and your little dog too, miss pretty' ,, -That is, get 'em all Vegas-styled up for the new Emerald City tourist season. Now that's some evil witchery there! So then I was looking around wondering maybe where Dorothy and the crew might really be hanging here. So then I got to wondering who it might be from her crew who would have like the gambling problem out there as their big character issue? You don't think it could maybe be Dorothy herself, do you? Like she'd be 'Oh look Scarecrow, there's an open nickel slot over there! We got any change?') Hate to think where she could end up on like those mean yellowbrick roads with that kind of problem ,,, She could be like "Hey! Strawdude, could I freshen up that tequila rum for ya? So maybe, you got like something for the nickel slot, you big hot hunk of Hey!" ,,, Oh God, talk about afflications,, thats enough outta me this morning

So just remember to get your white chiffons back out and all statically charged and everything. I'm looking around for mine ,, but gotta run ,, Jordan's my driver this morning! Not sure he's ready for the white chiffons yet though ,,, more to tell still ,, Soon

Angela

* * *

><p>Hey Brian - I have your note. I know you got mine. Not sure when we'll get a chance to talk today, with that schedule of yours. But certainly had to let you know you are specially invited to join us for lunch today ,,, SO LIKE YOUR PRESENCE IS OFFICIALLY REQUESTED TO BE THERE! ,, if you can. See you Brian ,,, hope this locker note finds you before lunch<p>

Angela

* * *

><p>AWKWARD? ,, AWKWARD-LY? ,, AWKWARD-SOME-YY? ,, AWKWARDLY-ISH-ING? ,,, Well I just had to write a short one about lunch, Angela. ,, So well here goes ,,, A-W-K-W-A-R-D, I'd say, in a word. So when did black seances start coming with our lunch? They just suddenly started appearing then today, along with the table stains? So did I mention AWKWARDINGLY-ish strange (even for the lunch room)! ,,, Well Like Brian joining us wasn't going to be a bit lunch-unsettling anyway, with that like fugitive composure of his. (Sorry Angela!) And I think the general lunch room vibe doesn't help there any ,,, But I never mentioned to Delia he'd be there when I invited her. Cause I didn't know !<p>

So what I what to know is, is it really even possible to like speak in tongues and swallow your tongue at the same time? (and keep chewing on your corn chips). ,, Cause I think Delia did all that, while rotating her head around a couple of times, when Brian just appeared and parked himself at the table ,,, You couldn't just feel the way the table lifted and then just kinda crashed down? All on Delia fumes, I'm sure. ,, I don't know what dimension that black stare of hers comes from but it had this like really frigid Delia-arctic cold front attached to it ,, I could just suddenly see my breath right there in the lunch room, I am literally STG,-ish. And then it just kinda settled in there for all the rest of the lunch period when Brian asked how she was doing. ,, It was like this really bitter, cold sore just pulled up and invited itself to join us. ,, Honest, I thought maybe I had misunderstood something and Brian had instead offered Delia a bite of his satan sandwich or something. Whatever it was it was like a whole new lunch sensation to me.

But still, I know she likes having lunch with us now, so... we'll just have to park maybe a few cars, or tanks, or something, between them at the table, to keep the tensions tolerable. Or have each of them sit in their own through lunch. We could just feed them lunch off those like car window-lunch trays you see in the old movies at the drive-in places. (Do tanks come with those kinds of options as well?) Or maybe we could all just start carpiling instead. Out in the parking lot, all together. Just pile in as much of the lunch room tension as somebody's car will bear, That'd be just your kinda lunch time fun, right? apparently? Then do that like as often as we can thru the day as well - at least every break anyway. And the fuller the stomachs the better ,, so we can all battle that down too in the carpiles. ,,, AND THEN! maybe we could invite Principal Foster and Mr. Racine to join us ,, that really would be a new carpiling incident. Everybody out there carpiling in our principal's own designated parking slot ,, would be worthy of a couple of year book pics anyway, right? Brian could do those, couldn't he, so there'd be like this year book proof it really happened? AND THEN! we could just read each other the latest Liberty Lit issues. So Foster could burn them right there in his own designated park and burn space. While everybody else could be out shooting off their new guns. I'll hand those out. So maybe all that could satisfy your lust for some real lunch-tension, Angela, huh? But probably not - so then maybe we could all just start regular carpooling together as well. In the little Katimski carpooler. It'd be like starting a new Katimski carpooler gang. Uprising - just setting off fires and shooting off guns where ever the carpool takes us - but maybe first could just keep all that in the school parking lot, til get a better hang of it. All the while spouting off some new haikus as well, like while we're at it. Or shooting off those tanks! How much trouble would that mean, shooting off those guns and tanks (if its not in the hallways?) AND THEN! ,, I'd like to throw in maybe like this raving pack of Liberty pirate mascots as well. The real ones, the kind that like guns and tanks and haiku, to show everybody that really needs it just what like backseat carpool manners should look like. Say maybe like picking up the toothpicks after yourself?

Well save all that for next week huh? ,,, This was fun. ,, So but enough writing practice. What happened to my Spanish class here anyway? Oh well, leaving this in your locker - ,, AWKWARDLY ,, no doubt See you tonight Angela

Love

Rickie

* * *

><p>Hey Angela, ,, Thank you for lunch. But of course, most of all, again, Thank you for taking the time for your note to me. You should be certain of one thing, beside the fact I won't lose this, you do have a gift -for what is right and proper, like throwing together a really great lunch. So hope now I haven't made your lunch hour, or anything, too awkward. Or something. And well I should also let you know that I'm really going to miss riding the bus home with you tonight. So I know its not like its any kind of big deal or anything but I just wanted to make sure that I let you know that. ,, But I have like these 2 more review sessions I really probably have to attend and contribute and everything right after classes ,, I guess a big deal could be what happens if I don't get it all this finished on time. Sorry if seeming any overly anxious about any of this. But Thanks again for lunch. Maybe I could stop by later tonight. Or tomorrow. We could do lunch. So don't sell the house and move or anything meanwhile - just let me in when you can<p>

Brian

* * *

><p>Rickie Love, ,, could you please ask Mr. Katimski about such things as over-dramatising and over-writing! ,, Apparently hardly any of what you write is like actually true. ,, Lunch was fine. ,,, If A-W-K-W-A-R-D ,, L-Y ,, I-N-G I-S-H. ,, A little. Take it from me on that one. But they'll settle down. Brian is like pretty devoted y'know to Our Town now, discovered at lunch (and so let me guess, you want to make our next little production here then, something like, Our Table, right?) ,,, Except he can't be there tonight, or tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to this little production of Ours more all the time, and also getting it over with, I think. So well, one thing I do know for certain here is that you are Our real Stage Manager - and I'm really glad for it, Rickie. So how do you do it? Well so, just keep working it - your little production magics! See you tonite<p>

Love

Angela

XXX

* * *

><p>Rickie, ,,, Thanks Dear, ,, but I think I can handle the closing act, thank you ,,,, But just to let you-only know, I am going to close that Act 2 one of those night's with Emily doing her like this Our Town-stopping version of that Natalie Imbruglia song, about being 'naked and numbed out on the floor' and all song ,, It might be like the new necessary ACT 2 12 to the show, or something. Listen, I KNOW Emily and she's good for this - life is short, y'know ,,, She means it when she says it ,, And poor George ,, And it should get us some well earned Liberty reviews, right? ,,, Think maybe some Time magazine too ,,, think we could guest in like that Val Kilme-slowly for George that night ,,, just for one night! ,, Could you do that for me? if you got any of his posters you could spare, I could start prepping for my part probably tonight ,,, or maybe even gym period if you got any stashed in your locker ,, hurry ,,, too much?

R.

* * *

><p>Angela<p>

If you reily think you can get me any extra credat for composing to you, I think then we have this deal Angela. So I am officially approving of our deal right here than. And to pleese let it be noted to all about whum! or watever ,, And I may well write a revuw of uor band exberiance tomarow out in the Cooderville sticks ,,, Why do all these gigs have to be out ther in like the far outar HeHa galiksy ,,, I think thats the name in fakt of the staj we'll be playing tomarow, , The Outar HeHa Galiksy Biker Bar. ,, Or watever. Sure you can't go? ,,, This may not be a hapy revuw - the drive, the setup ,, on and on ,,,, I hope we at leest play well tomarow ,, Don't want to leev any unhappy biker hiks arond before we can get out of thare ,,, Thay'll set our equpmant on fire ,,, wish you could be there! ,, nice offir from me, huh ,,, I'll be howleng for you Angela ,, and then I'll do it at the mic stand ,,, Later, Red ,, or watever

Jordan


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

, , , - Saturday January 28

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A Night or two ago—

And now she turns Her perfect Face

Upon the World below—

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde—

Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn—

Her Eye unto the Summer Dew

The likest I have known—

Her Lips of Amber never part—

But what must be the smile

Upon Her Friend she could confer

Were such Her Silver Will—

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest Star—

For Certainty She take Her Way

Beside Your Palace Door—

Her Bonnet is the Firmament—

The Universe—Her Shoe—

The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt—

Her Dimities—of Blue—

-Emily Dickinson

* * *

><p>Oh god ,,,, Over active ovaries Chase , ,, oh god , please just say this can't be happening., Please ,, Please ,, Please ,, Rayanne, , I am so totally here at your mercy. , Promise you'll not even repeat out loud those 4 words together again. Ever. , Again. . Don't even say any of them by themselves .. You can't use any of those words anymore. , Cause I'm sure they've already left ,, here , I may follow. , So you can't even think them. , As in, , EVER. , Remember, we're all part of this same karass here. , Aren't we all like this karass of '97, or well, something. , And you can't ruin like your own karass-mate, right? ,, Oh God , Please Rayanne, , DO NOT LEAVE THIS BUILDING TONITE WITHOUT TOTALLY PROMISING YOU WON'T BE REPEATING ANYTHING OF WHAT YOU ONLY THINK YOU MAYBE SAW BUT PROBABLY DIDN'T ANYWAY.. , We'll leave it at that. ,, Oh god<p>

THANK YOU! Sweet Emily, and Rayanne

Always Your Friend FOREVER

Angela

* * *

><p>Bravo Rayanne ,, Mucho Bravo ,, Well that was absolutely THE stage performance of your life, I think, again, for this week anyway. , Which were all pretty spectacular too. Now if we can just get those videotapes back from Cherski. , So you've got to package this one up for Broadway, like I keep telling you. Those really are audition tapes that Cherski has confiscated then, after all! , I'm sure you could do 75 minutes on those Over-Active Ovaries of yours,, live. To a real theatre audience. , Who would appreciate it all - not just performing it all for us. And of course, YES, Emily Webb is the perfect spokesperson for combating this , Over-Active Ovaries syndrome , that you see all over our town. Especially when she's in that dress of hers. Watching it all from stage , somewhere,practically-beside-you , it did all come off looking like a real audition taping for a O-A-O-S commercial. I know Cory was roar-ing as he was taping it all. But I'm sure on your next audition tape we can get you some better production values still, from the stage ,, upthere. If we can get the camera back. And some tapes. And Cory - I think we may need a new cinematographer too. We have all week though, with the rehearsal videotapings. Every day right?<p>

So could anything then, ever, be more priceless than the look on your face, well, and really, Angela's, and Jordan's, butt who's counting, as Emily walked in on them in the dressing room, floor. Now those were instant classic MTV Moments – cause it was like this . MTV - Behind the Veil. , capturing some school spirit,, well, Emily Gibbs's maybe anyway,, and there gathering last MTV memories before ,,, so that first it was like this all subdued Emily voice, 'Well I suppose maybe its Time,, Dear MTV friends,, we should be leaving, for a while , our sweet little Grovers Corner, .. ' then its all this shrieking Emily, 'OMG ,, Over-Active-ovaries ,, Look ,, they're ,,, Angela .. Chase!' , and everybody's heads just started snapping around every which way,, like some kinda last school toll bells just went off. But it did all set up for another memorable exit line there, dear Emily. I figured it would take you maybe about 2 seconds to launch into something like that when I saw our own afternoon MTV mates,,-ing, , well, , spread out all over the spare clock-sticking scenery back there, , but you probably beat that mark even. So we'll just have to let the tape tell all there ,,, once,, before we destroy it. , Or it could really be another really evil thing. So but think it all turned into a big enough production like finale for you? ,, I mean, like no stage management credits possibly taken here for ,, that. From anyone. But then like you wonder what more could any prying pack of over-dramatists like ever asked for either,,, from their own drama club. , And then it only seemed to get Wilder,, with everybody screaming, over mine, backstage there, at the edge of Thornton Town.,, I'm suppose it could be just like he'd have wanted it too. And the camera rolling. It was, wasn't it? Were we really still filming anyway? Going by Jordan's re-action, I'd say probably yes. Or that it doesn't matter. To poor Cory anyway. I don't think he really knows what really hit him. I think Jordan may actually, I mean literally, have flown at him.,, And the camera. , From off the top of Angela. Definitely it was for the best that Mr. Katimski, and everybody else, were still there to hear all that. Somebody had to settle all Our Town's shit back down. And it wasn't going to be me. But I don't put out screams like that for nothing. , Well so now I think I've lost track again,, Ray, what is it we're all here rehearsing for anyway? ,, Please let me know though, we still got all week to figure it back out. I guess. So why didn't I sign up for some of this drama theatre sooner? Had I known there'd be any kind of, like, actual drama ,.,. Oh boy

XXX

R

* * *

><p>OK Sharon,, you have to swear, by all that is really, really, sacred here,, and then even more, , I mean starting with the sacred brad pittkoala bears collection, then the Kyle/Brads .,,,well, your future class presidency and all,, which I am volunteering to go locker-to-locker for starting right now,, and then like constantly ever after,, over the next two years, at least , that you WILL NEVER. , EVER , REPEAT , well, , I don't know exactly what you think you guys saw. ,Oh god. , I'm still in a huge coma over all this. , just now. I may not come out it until I can leave PA., if then. , You think Jordan is really in any sort of trouble over this? , I mean, all that was nothing compared to gym class. , Oh god.

Angela

* * *

><p>Oh Angela , I'm so sorry , Really ,, I wish I could be there for you now , I know you're in a total coma state probably still ,, But don't be, really, its all a lot of commotion about really nothing that we're going to say happened anyway, Angela ,, It was all just being at the wrong places at the wrong .. Listen I'm sending over this package , with my mom , I can't believe that I have all this to do still,, just this evening.<p>

And so really , its all like Dorothy was saying anyway,, but via that friend of that Tino guy, , from that one day,, sitting out on the bleachers,, that he said you can't be poking around all through those wicked witch road-kill parts there, Toto .. or was he saying Tino .. too .,. I'm getting all mixed up here. , But you can't let it get to you,, was the point. Really. , And I've got the camera and tapes anyway, , so if any of them want that back, the camera anyway ... everyone's just going to have to be all very cooperative here first. , Maybe this whole video-camera - student practices thing wasn't such a great idea from the start though ..

But listen, so not to change the subject,, Congratulations! , on the new restaurant Angela, and party. , Chez Chases? ,, We're all just so excited for you all over here - So When's Dinner ? , I know I'll be having the Evening Special ! (Could it be any better than Graham's grams of crunchy banana grahams , ala Graham mode? , I don't know why I thought it was always your mom making those - I can be such a Cherski sometimes. I can still hear Brian starting that expression up for us - don't be such a Cherski, Cherski)

So but check out the box my mom's bringing over! , You could decorate a whole lost continent with all the stuff she has. Also, there's a box inside it for you. Your letter got me looking through our den bureau / time machine last night. , So right about now you should be holding that prized, original Le Wiz d'Oz tape we watched. It should have a few viewings left on it still, before it totally wears out. Please play it again if you want some of that same kinda old OZ-ly comfort tonite. Also, I did find some of the pictures from my 6th bd party - you remembered! I like how the dresses got ever more elaborate every year, didn't they? Until we were all what .. 15 ,, and tired of being dressed up like the show ponies? , Kidding. , My mom stopped dressing me at .. well we'll find out. But all the real lasting proof is in that box. So its not to be mishandled, or burned.. without checking with me first. Cause really, we were all pretty gorgeous back in our day, weren't we? , For the first 20 minutes anyway, before things could really start to go off our rails. Look at how our mom's look by the time the evening light's in the picture. , Not sure if those are glints of Glinda or the WWW in their eyes staring around at all of us by then.

Have some other pictures in there wanted to show Brian. I'm sure he's gonna deny most of these student practices too – even though I have the photo proofs right there - some that he took! I had forgotten what a Nature! program - wild animal collector he could be in those days. It was like we were repopulating the Ark, sometimes, all the creatures he'd bring into class, , for everybody else to take care of then. He's good about volunteering, alright, then triple-stacking over those hours. Where'd he learn that trick? Before me. So we were talking about all that a while back, talking about that one zoo exhibit-rescue he brought into class, 4th grade? cause he couldn't manage them at home. There's the one picture in there of him looking like a half-drowned little Robert Plant, holding these squawking little chicks, and I think some other kind of mange ball. Is that a sight? , Everything had like blown into those ponds, after some storm or something. But Brian remembers like every little detail about it all. We talked about that stuff when my dad was sick. , He said that was my first volunteer org project, the park cleanup, which sounds about right. If you don't include those early Brownie point buster projects. , And well the third grade U.N. Kids-World local council principal lead thing. , Just BTW, they really did come through for me, the U.N. and everything, when I ran for student council. , So .. oh yeah .. So Brian was telling me about his little harem of robin, and some other, chicks he brought in. For us, to all take care of. He named them, he sez, like Donald D.'s gaggle of nephews. I think, like Lacy-Spacey-Gracey-Chasesy, if it ever comes up in 4th grade trivial pursuit. But it apparently wasn't all that trivial for him when some of them began to die on us there in school. I mean – like you duh-duced that, B? , cause we weren't very good with the pets –da chicks, yet. He took the last two back home with him, right? So wonder how that ever worked out? Probably each got their own little I.C. multi-apparatus setup in his room somewhere. Maybe ask him when you think about it, Angela. So but gosh you look at those pictures and doesn't it seem like we were all having so much more fun back then? , So what rabbit hole did all those lucky little charmers disappear down into? Can you even imagine what Rayanne was like back then? , After a couple bowls of doubley lucky chocolatey Lucky Charms? Whatever she was doing I'm surprised the U.N. council, at least, never got called in about it, or I'd know. Coulda been they were all just too shocked to deal, though. The usual. And then its kinda jarring to see Brian there, like playing. So you know thats been a while ago then. He just kinda shut that window closed behind him, didn't he? , He seemed happy talking about it all though.

EEEHHGG, , I'm sorry but I'm already running late-r again here, Angela. I guess enough with the reminiscing. All the little duties call. But please don't worry about a thing, Galefriend. , Enjoy your picture shows tonite. , I'll see you tomorrow

Sharon

* * *

><p>Hey Angela ,, Stopped by ,,, Could get tickets tonight to see couple of M. Hulot movies at Regent Square tonight. ,, Let me know. ,, Have transport. ,, ,, Lots of commotion in your house tonight? , , , All seems well here<p>

Brian

PS ,, What do you think of Emily D's stuff , pgs. 99/111 ,,, You'll be tested next week ,, have outline to share (left inside book, p.99)

B

^v^v^v^v^v

…. from page 99 . …. Emily Dickinson

... The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A Night or two ago

And now she turns Her perfect Face

Upon the World below

Her Forehead is ...

\ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _/

I do know this moonlight ,Angela ,,,, I've seen it rise over your house. ,,, I've seen its grace slip from the frames

out through the attic maybe? ,,,, You don't keep a spare moon in the attic, do you?

Well, , so what I do know about these things I can only take from other sources. I think maybe I'm a bit highly imbued with her Emilys just now. , So .. like, those things she'll say - just to see if you might be awake, , maybe. But I can understand from her now, better - that there really is some kind of vernal sin attached to wasting a dance … and to ... wasting moon ambers that pool even around here ... could light even our foot steps, , and falls, , some evening? , Like this

So ... maybe we could step into Emily's music? some .. night? , A street dance? , , I know these moon tracelets can't give out any second chances. But would you? , Dance with me?

B

* * *

><p>I'm so sorry Brian ,,, Your folks said you're out tonight ,,, I'm so sorry I missed any of this ,, But I did want to talk to you ,, and I'm sorry to be missing the movies tonight ,,, And if you could, , I would like to ask you to dance<p>

I think like you owe me, this time. , At a dance, next weekend? , The after show party Sat. at Abyssinia's?

I'm sorry I missed your note B ,,, Got in late But the Emily Dickinson poems are really great - I really like what I've read so far. , Looking forward to seeing her in class next week. She gets an invitation to the dance as well! , You can call me if its not too late for you. I'll see you soon Brian.

Angela


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Summary: In which Patty discovers the spirits are still in play

It Takes a Village

In Dreams Begin Responsibilities

( Standard Deviations Apply )

_Pursuant to our network standards and attendant guidelines: all native issuances shall commence by standard-practices joke and end with a sputter 'Wrong! T-ti-tic-Times Up!'_

v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^

"Those glasses just don't suit you Patty, the way they hide that gorgeous pale chakra of yours."

"Mom! Listen ... first off, my glasses aren't THAT big. Second, I've only got about a half-hour left for lunch today, so if-"

"Well dear I'm just saying...you ever think about taking that weisheiteimer over to the Wet Whistle? Maybe a schooner? Or three while…"

"Mom! I'm not kidding now. Pose just one more of your little lemon tarts here and I'm off to find the first emancipation court judge who will listen to my…"

"Wha...emancipa...you want to be re-assigned back to that orphanage? Well I never...wait till your father.."

"Mom!"

v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^ v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Patty welcomes the sight of her car, parked alone on the large blacktop lot. It had never appeared as more of a sanctuary than it did right now. She knew the frustrations from another lunch with her mom would hang with her through the rest of the day, anyway. Well geehz. As Patty approaches her car she wonders if she should maybe always eat her lunch in the car now. Some days she could just drive away from her mom's felt presence, and from work .. and ..

She glances over towards the elongated two-story structure at the end of the parking lot. She sees that Princess Di is standing there, just as she had seen her before. She is holding a bright red balloon. Patty felt like she could use a spot of comfort talk and thinks Princess Di could be just the one to offer that.

Patty crosses the lot expanse quickly and stops next to Princess Di. Patty addresses her plainly, as she does most everyone. She remarks what a lovely day it is for flying balloons. Princess Di doesn't respond. Just then a little girl with a crown of dark scraggly hair pops her head out from behind Princess Di's white satin skirt.

As she does, the balloon they are holding makes a fluttering noise and Patty sees it struggling to make it's escape from Lady Di's grasp. The print on the balloon reads "St. Dante's Angels! Go! Now!" And as if prompted, the balloon does find its escape and lofts upward, elevated with a distinct flutter at its base.

Patty looks down to find the little girl is scampering up Princess Di, like she is ready to launch herself after the balloon. Its then that Patty notices the little girl has her own set of wings. A pair of small black-sooted wings. She has scampered up the side of Princess Di to almost the top of her shoulders, like a supercharged little winged monkey. Princess Di is struggling now, as she wrangles to keep the writhing little girl's legs in her grasp, before her girl too might launch, following after their balloon. Princess Di brings the little girl's face back down next to hers and whispers something to her, and Patty watches the little girl nod exuberantly. Princess Di lowers the little girl back down next to her, takes one of the girl's fingerless gloved hands in her own white leather gloved hand.

Princess Di turns towards Patty but doesn't address her directly "You should look after your girls" she says.

"Well of course. That's what I do every" Patty starts but finds herself temporarily halted by the Princess's presumption.

Princess DI turns with the little girl, both begin walking behind Patty, towards the school door entrance, Lady Di leading the little girl along by her hand.

_'Well they are certainly a pair'_, Patty watches. The little girl's hair is a dark grunge mess, but her clothes might be in even worse shape still. Patty sees holes strewn all through the clothing. (_'Gheesh,what would mom say'_, she finds herself wondering. _'Likely something along the lines of, 'Why that child's wings probably haven't been cleaned properly in.. most of an eternity!_')

Just as they are about to enter through the doors, the little girl turns back to Patty and waves a 'Bye' with her free hand and wings. 'Bye' Patty echoes back. 'Whats your name?' Patty finds that the little girl had actually been waving good-bye to her balloon but then refocuses on Patty. The girl seems befuddled how to answer Patty.

"Frank" she returns.

"Frank? What a fun.." Patty begins but then decides on another tact. "I had a friend .. who .. was named .." but cannot think how to finish her sentence. By now the pair had already passed on through the doors.

Patty considers returning now to the sanctuary of her station wagon but looks at the doors, and the engraved lettering above them,

'St. Dante Parish School – Welcome!'

Patty tries to think if this school was on her list of privates she was considering as alternatives for her girls should the security at their current schools continue to break down. Those schools were certainly on notice!, to Patty's mind.

Patty decides she will follow Lady Di and her charge in, and walks up to pull hard on the heavy wooden vestibule doors. She is greeted by a gust of stale musty air that escapes as the doors part and she steps into the entrance.

She finds herself standing in the middle of a dimly lit cavity, as silent as the night stars heavenly alignments. She looks up. She can already see the stars making an early appearance this mid-day. Then she looks ahead. In the center space before her is a gleaming, gilded directory stand. Patty walks up to it and peers over the structure diagram displayed within, modeled on the familiar shopping mall map. It points out to her, 'You Are Here' . Patty finds now she is at the top-most rung of a descending multi-level building, with all the additional floor levels spiraling down below her.

Patty studies the diagram a bit further and then stands erect again, looking about her, trying to gather in how 'Here' has actually been constructed.

To her left the wall has a series of plagues lining its length. Patty can see they eventually lead to a large glass trophy case standing at the back .

She inspects the first plague she walks up to.

'St. Dante's – First Place, Youth Camp Rally! 1930s to ..' it trumpets.

Patty understood then exactly where she was. She had had limited experience interacting with the Catholic schools in her area up till this point, but she was looking for more direct, first hand inspection what enrollment in one of the schools might mean for her girls. Her first requirement of course was that they would protect them better.

Patty then noticed a wall banner strung above the plaques,

"Welcome ! Visitation Day – St. Dante's!"

She was anxious now to continue on with her inspection, feeling like she had wandered by on the right day. She spotted a stairway just past the map station and was immediately following their lead down to the levels waiting below.

It hadn't taken long at all before the old school institution anxieties had begun to seep in. She was finding the air here below seemed saturated with them, like any ventilating system would have long ago been overwhelmed by the complications it found and quit for another plan. Small wonder then these sub floors were such magnets for the raw disorders. _'Invest in a few air filters'_ she was ready to offer aloud. They always seemed to work well enough in her car.

Already she had grown anxious enough to begin wondering if maybe there'd be a better visitation day ahead, one that might allow drive-through hallway inspections, where she could take things in from the comfort of the station wagon. She could bring the girls!

As she considered turning back, she discovered then how steep and remorseless this escalator descent had turned out to be. Then suddenly the escalator stairs morphed into the first hallway landing zone.

The elevator treads had disappeared underneath her, cascading into their collection box below, and launching Patty head long onto the level linoleum floor.

She was glad she found her immediate balance, recalling a similar incident from her very first school years when she had instead been splat out over the floor from a spill, sending her lunchbox shooting across the tiles towards the nearest gathering of lunchbox stompers.

She carefully gazed about her. It was all very quiet and still. Directly in front of her ran a long hallway, with a few classroom entrances stationed before a long succession of locker units. On either side of her ran darker, even longer corridors, with the classroom doorways spaced evenly between drinking fountains, fire extinquishers and closet doors, with no discernable end in sight. Patty chose forward as her best option.

She started to pass the first classroom entrance when she heard the distinct fluttering of a spent film reel clattering against its projector. She looked into the classroom through its entrance door window and saw the flicker of light she would always recognize from the spin of home 8mm movies. Always soundless. She saw the projection was aimed to one end of the classroom but otherwise the room was so dark she could not tell if it was aimed to the front or back.

She was quickly a captive of 8mm film mesmerization. The classroom appeared to be showing a historical narrative documentary. It ran very quickly at first, seemingly at super 8mm speed, displaying stuttering images of just regular folks mixing around rather uncomfortably in a school lab, toasting one another and clinking their pyrex glasses of condenser tubes, presumably filled with champagne.

Then those images were cut with a film title panel that zoomed out toward the viewer, announcing the

"The Rembrance of Things To Come is Here! Now!".

It quickly switched scenes then to a summer backyard family celebration, with the frame composed around a new baby carriage as the central focus. Patty gazed around at the extras populating the scene, amidst the soft, then brighter, flicker of captured overhead sunlight. The scene's participants were all familiar, like personal home movies taken by a Hollywood luminary, casting the piece with the most recognizable mom and dad figures available.

The scene panned and zoomed too quickly for Patty to be sure, but she thought she also caught glimpses of her own parents, and their circle, milling about as the scenes unfolded. It could even have been a Hollywood re-make of her own adoption party, which she was very familiar with from the reels of home movies her family kept, though it could as well have been the preliminary setup for a rather odd horror episode from one of the network anthologies.

She wished she could better understand these documentaries, or these shows, or whatever it was she was always watching in the dark. They seemed to invariably get her quite stirred up, with their intensity lode. But what effected her most was not their tension pitch, but rather their absence of a true dramatic resolution. She knew the topical explorations were usually laughable in their heavy-handed structuring. Half-right, at best, in their subject portrayals. The other half glossing over a chasm of cluelessness.

"Stop! Doesn't anyone actually know anything?!" she wanted to scream at the projection. She looked in again through the glass, room's opaquely, only to discover this time there were other pairs of stricken eyeballs looking back to her directly. She thought maybe she should step into this feature now, to confront .. someone, about the quality of this timepiece, and tested the door handle. It was locked. She took a step back, to re-appraise, and then glanced again up the hallway.

There appeared to be a bit of new hallway commotion in progress, happening though just out of her audio range. A small local news crew appeared to be interviewing a distressed cheerleader at the edge of the hallway. Patty naturally wondered what all that could be about. She thought she might be able to ease herself in a little closer to their story circle, place herself within earshot. She certainly did understand herself at least that much, that she was a natural snoop.

But it was quickly apparent no simple rouse she might try was going to get her close enough to the story center to fool the pros guarding this exclusive. The news unit spotted her game almost immediately, and all, including the tearful cheerleader, shot her some rather fierce trespassing looks. Patty was deterred sufficiently that she thought things could even get a little unpredictable from this point. Could she herself wind up as the next local news story, featured as 'Another Big Snoop Scoop! Story at 11!', with a 'Caught in the Act!' intro.

She decided the slow walk-by, head and ears fully attuned and scanning for best audio focus, might be her wisest option.

"Well, I saw them kissing" Patty clearly picked up. "That was just before I found out they would be sharing the same locker from now on.." The distressed cheerleader was offering up as her eye-witness account to the sympathetic local news team. "I see", responded the reporter professionally. "Would you have a last name then you could share with us, to go with that prom-wrecker's .. first name .. Camille, lets see .."

Patty paused to catch the full name everyone was searching for, and just long enough to prompt the full bore glares from the small news circle, as the local news camera began turning it's aim towards her.

Patty could feel her face flush maturing into a full body blush as she was about to become shamed, on camera. Patty was transfixed, as she saw her only chance to explain herself before the camera was already lost, with the news unit fading back down the corridor together, while the retreating camera stayed focused on her the whole time.

Patty was at something of wits end when she noticed the long shadow that had crept up on her from behind had stopped.

"Could I speak with you a moment, Miss..?"

"It's Peppermint.. It's Patty', she sputtered out, as she turned around and looked up. She found she had just given up one of the more derogatory nicknames assigned to her during her high school, to Darth Vader, who was squarely looking back down at her, the over-visage of loco parentis, and certainly dressed for that part today.

"I am looking for someone" he announced. "I'm her father, you see.. and we haven't seen her since.. but well I'm sure it's none of your concern. You have many other.." and then stood waiting, for some concession reply speech from Patty.

Patty wasn't quite sure what concession he could be expecting from her, as he folded his arms across his chest, while tapping a lead boot toe on the floor. Then he shifted his weight around some, and used that same boot toe to simulate grounding out a smoke on the school floor covering. Several times. Awkwardly. Finally he exhaled an amplified sigh that sounded more like a Harley 1500cc sighing.

_'So what was he expecting from her now, anyway_?' she wound herself up with. '_To voluntarily enlist here with the little time she had, as.. some kind of executive replacement daughter-referee-search committee, all-in-one? Was she the only one who could take all that on? She had plenty of responsibilities of her own now, y'know.._'.

"I.. I.. don't know.. who" Patty stammered.

"She's run away with a band" was all the prompting he needed, not quite able to face her directly, while he simulated grounding out his last cigarette on the floor. "The Garth Vader Band.. oh, they're this some kind of atrocious cover band.. for like the geekest tweener set you'd ever .. do you know them?"

Patty shook her head.

"We just don't know.. what to.. oh, well, maybe they went this way", exhaling another long profundo sigh-roar, then proceeding after his shadow down the stark hallway.

Patty quickly found retreat in the other direction, looking all the while for the closest exit, or classroom hideout, she could find.

Instead she found a new hallway commotion approaching her from just off the hallway intersection, closing in fast ahead. Then it turned the corner to greet her before she had any chance to secure a hide-away. It approached from under a hallway directional sign, pointing towards the direction they had all just emerged from. "ADMINISTRATION-FACULTY-STAFF-SERVICES-DELIVERIES ONLY - - -" the sign read.

They made it immediately clear to Patty that this pack was on a mission. It was lead by a core group of hallway monitors, in their full British Police drag, like they were assigned to lead the Scotland Yard Marching Band. In addition to the traditional black 'Home Office', swollen head gear, they had strapped on their yellow security vests under their hall monitor chest belts, allowing them to pack some kind of pellet pistol inside it's waistband.

Backing them up were a scowl of substitute lunchroom/maintenance-work/teacher parolees, along with a few unusually stirred-up parents, and an undersized Bulldog-mascot they were attempting to keep on it's leash. Their apparent mission was to go locker-by-locker, as they quickly demonstrated at the first two unfortunates they encountered turning the corner. They seemed to be stoking up at least their share of group-frustration, as they found nothing much to their liking in these first two locker raids. They were ready for some full-on group release. Then it was Patty that found their attention, standing alone a short distance down the hallway.

The Bulldog-mascot was indicating it was the most ferociously interested in checking this new suspicious party out further. Patty thought some of the crew in back might be armed with bins of rotted kitchen vegetables and eggs, and wanted no part of what they could offer. She would forever be able to out-run a pack of anything, possibly even the Pamplona bulls, and so she was off, burning up gears as she tore through these school corridors in what was probably a personal best hallway time. Her legs declared she wasn't going to stop now until they got to the other side.

She had trained herself not to look back, fearing something road-spawned might be gaining on her. But she did slow down to a brisk shuffle once she realized she wasn't wearing her lady's varsity track outfit here but was instead in mid-week business casual uniform. She found that running, again, gave her a little time to think, clearly, in this case what a better escape route might look like.

She wasn't sure which way to turn when she came up to the next large hallway intersection. First she glanced left. Clear. Then she looked..

"Miss!"

Patty halted dead in her tracks.

"Come here please". Patty turned to face Principal Blackmon, down the hall, reaching into an open locker.

"Should you be in class? Where are your books? " he quizzed.

Patty set about to explain she was here with Princess Di and her little girl for an authorized visitation when they got separated by.. "What are you doing?" she asked the scrunched over Principal. She could see he was punching keys on a security pad mounted inside a locker. "Are you an intruder?"

"No! I'm resetting the security system. We received an .. intruder alert" he eyed her suspiciously after he let that slip out. "Should you be in class? Where are your books?"

"I was getting to that..".

"We're in a security lockdown, if you must know" impatient already with her excuses. "I think once we finish the full locker searches, we'll be good here again."

"What are you searching the lockers for?"

"A band. We can hear them, right, but we just can't find them."

Patty was now picking up the background harmonies flowing along the top of the corridor space.

"They're not on the approved music list. You've know that list, right? The Administration's band ban? You should have one posted in your locker. We'll check."

Patty did remember there was something vaguely familiar about this.

"That's the Beatles, isn't it? That's 'The Long and Winding..'" Patty began to identify the overhead tune, but then was stumped to finish..

"What?"

"Way?" Patty tried, but she had already forgotten her favorite..

"What?"

"No. Is it .. Finding the Stairs.. Way .. To .. Stairwell.. Stairhell.. Behind?".

"Where? You're sputtering yourself into a lot of trouble here, young lady. That's Garth Vader. So now its locker by locker, if that's the way it has to be. We're gonna find them, if anyone's interested. Right?"

"Well not that I'm aware of" Patty auto-lied to the Principal, again.

"Well the security system is reset anyway. We'll find them." He finished punching the last key and closed the locker.

"I have some business to attend to now, or.. shouldn't you be finding your way to your next class? I don't want to hear any reports of trouble..".

"I just stopped here.. cause you said.. I should be getting to class. Its just around the corner here" as she parted company with the advanced degree'd scowl.

Patty rounded the corner, and into, then through, a clearly marked 'EXIT' door. She found herself bounding down the back stairway like it had suddenly been declared a mandatory skip-day. She found the last stairway level flushed out the rear exit, into the back grounds of the school campus.

Immediately then, she wished she were back in school. She turned around and scanned across the exit door but there no door handle on it, securing it against any possible re-entry.

Patty then took a 180-degree peer around her. It was at the last light of the day settling now. It appeared her wanderings had taken into some kind of re-settlement camp, one that could finally never quite meet that aspiration, and so had left for better prospects on desolation row. Possibly it had used the back track and field stations she was seeing here to abet its escape.

She looked behind her once again, towards the school building, half expecting to find a temporary sign designating it's approaching summer assignment, 'Failure Camp! Starts Soon! No Permission Slips Required!'.

Two basketball stands abutted the truant building, though neither of them would qualify as 'standing' except in some strict BOE technical sense. The nearer stand had one of its twin cylinder support legs completely blown away and had bent into the space of the other stand beside it, like it might be making a last-ditch appeal for support. But its grounds mate had both of its supports buckled at the approximate knee line, ready to collapse at any basketball, or other, event presented to it.

Cigarette butts lined the grounds surrounding the gimped basketball stands, so kids were still finding their way back here. It was about the only sign Patty could find of 'no-quit' being practiced here, the doomed advents of shared nicotine habits.

Drafting on the slight wind, Patty could smell compost, that carried an unsettling scent. Somewhere on this back lot, a purposed compost build had been set up, possibly to mask the sludge-post degrading below. More ruin, judging by the dissected plains of diminished light that lay out just under the view horizon, spread out beyond the industrial wasteposts. This place had certainly been left for the dead, to be reclaimed, if they dare. It wouldn't have surprised her if they were growing zombies by the crypt back here as well.

The sudden surge of discomfort drove her to take to the field track, wondering how that might feel now.

She had always felt comfortable on it before. Wondered how much ability she might have actually left on it, or if she ever really had it, a champions talents, or near, had she followed through back when she had the chance. Hard to believe now that there was that time, before Graham, and her job, and her daughters, when such things were her most pressing concerns.

She then naturally settled into a rhythm as she took off over this practice track. But the track base wasn't right tonight. More broken and jagged than she remembered, requiring more labor. It felt like she was running uphill now, over a cobblestone road.

It hadn't taken many turns and already she was feeling nauseous, ready almost to hurl in fact. Looking towards the track's inner partition fence, it was clear, given the crowd it drew, that she wouldn't have been the first to do so here. She couldn't even see much of the inner practice fields contained within this short fence. The breeze sweeping across those fields seemed to have picked up somethig though, she could hearing the flapping of the discards strewn across them. She wanted to complete at a single tour around the track circle anyway before quitting tonight.

She'd glance into the fields now as she pursued on. It was all so overgrown, not at all properly maintained. She saw that coming up rounding this turn where the practice field's goal posts, outlined against a creosote sky. But their legs were no longer set straight either, tilting inwards instead till they almost took the shape of an 'A' (possibly having acquired a natural bent for the 'Angels', or for Adios).

Then the silhouettes underneath the goal posts seemed to rise up. They appeared to be headstones, unevenly aligned in their space. As her run took her closer she saw they were actually sewage barrels.

And then something took off from the field, like it had been scared up. Patty followed its sonic trail overhead as it flipped and dived in a very chaotic fashion. Finally she saw she was watching a discarded plastic shopping bag cast up into the wind, as it had flown over her. She watched were it might be bound, but it quickly found its next resting place restrained by the high chainlink fence surrounding these back practice fields. There it joined an ill-deemed collective of discards pinned by the local forces to the fence. Others had been snagged by the loops of razor wire at the top of the fence, which would never be releasing a single one of them, it appeared.

There was a large metal sign hanging in the middle of the fence, and Patty walked over towards it to see what it said. "We're ForeClosed – Back at the Midnight Hours".

Patty wondered now, with a bit of a stomach retch, how was she going to get out of this place now? Everything had already turned foreclosed, likely even the native zombies.

She glanced around, focused on spotting some way out. The fence was far too treacherous for her to climb.

Then she looked straight up, past the fence's apex. There was something trapped above the fence but not visibly linked to it, or to anything. It appeared Lady Di's balloon had just quit, as some forces had seemingly trapped it in mid-air. She circled underneath it to get another view.

She looked out to find what might be restraining it, a hidden grounding wire or lateral utility cable. She saw nothing that would account for the inflexible stationary orbit it was refusing to yield. Possibly it just didn't care to stray out any further this evening.

Patty cast her eyes into the distance, taking in the recession of rolling hills and eventual pitched falls that spread out beyond the fence. She considered again what had become of her old home town.

Was this a sight where they abandoned their lower achievers? Who's council had opted to accept these stages of genuine blight.

She walked further down along side the fence. It was just more scattered debris strewn about this barrier fence, all fused into a night chattering chorus. Other moored balloons of various size and colors; abandoned doll sets, destined here to their last repose, some resembling her own daughters'; the dry blonde tumbleweeds collected at the fence base.

This is where they could all end up, once school had let out?

Then just beyond the nearest knoll, the waning flit of a wing had caught the edge of her pallid eye - more than anything she did not want to turn her gaze another degree in that direction, to what might have fallen there, but she was helpless to look away from its implicated calls.

A lone stitch of breeze produced just enough lift to retain the wing beat, sufficient to give the fallen cherubim the appearance of still life. Mount Calvary's own tribute reclamation site preempted, scabbed by the ravens abandoned half-nests, their blackened eggshells collected by wind into a mash heap, a half-buried warning that the last succor punch may already have been borne.

She looked into the angel's eyes for a last reveal from it's flickering sentience and they looked directly back. Patty would be their last reveal, caught at the final, resolved edge of their earthly apparitions, as she startled back a step towards the fall that carried her scream.

'Oh Dear God'. Patty had planted her feet on the bedroom floor before even her natural auto-response systems could find another recourse. The only thing that immediately registered was how dark this room was tonight. Then she felt the aura, of something that seemed to have followed her back.

"Patty?" Graham's voice was searching for her but she had become unresponsive once the flapping beats had found her again.

Was she still .. dreaming. Was she even standing. She took a step. But now the flapping was more persistent.

Dream or no, she was still going to make her way to their bathroom. She covered that short distance under light that barely registered on the bedroom windows.

As she stepped across the bathroom threshold, she flipped on its light switch in the same motion. She took another couple of steps towards the sink and then found she had stepped right next to a pair of beating wings covering the floor. This fallen prey had struggled through their shared night, since the cat had left this family gift for them from it's night prowls.

When Patty was finally able to see the form of the fatally wounded bird grounded in its own tiny pool of blood, she emitted a piercing wail that capsized her unbalanced deck. She reached the sink and held tight for a few moments, but she was going down. The swirl of echoes from the beginning of a stream of hysterical night sobs and the last beats of the sparrow easily overmatched her. She looked down at the fatally injured bird once more. She believed she saw the last light being released from its eyes, as it stared ahead, out into the fates. Patty's own inner lights were temporarily released just following this creature's. Had Graham not been there right behind her to catch most of her fall, she might have found herself stretched out next to it, open to all injuries possibly as grave as the winter sparrow's after the fall.

* * *

><p>Hey Katy! Where are you ? You have to find me. And I mean NOW ! You are not going to believe this ! After everything else that has happened!<p>

Would you believe - my mom woke up our house last night - Screaming ! .. i mean it was just that _blood-curdling _kind ! ... like worse than they ever had on Elm Street .. EVER !

So then my mom was still like really all shook up this morning. She took like absolutely no notice of me, or any of us, though I did catch her glaring at the cat a couple of times this morning. Enough anyway to make that cat take an exit pretty quickly. Except as we leaving for the car, and she starts sending out all these probes about what we're doing after school, why we didn't try this and that, but don't go to this place or that, and all this wild gesturing. Which we reminded her, of course, doesn't really help with her driving, which isn't ever so great anyway, but she wasn't going along with any of our joking. I mean, like NOT AT ALL! She only got more Patty-tense. Fine ! Yeesh. Such a morning already, K-bots! But listen, there's MUCH MORE !

Looks like you're gonna be late for school .. AGAIN ! Thought you just might like something to nibble on, between sessions, for the DISCUSSIONS ! See You THERE ! Don't you dare be the frigid-aire!

Daniela

* * *

><p>So Angela,<p>

I hope you don't mind me writing this to you anytime soon, from the floor. No, it's not where I found I slept last night–it's just what I found beside me, right after Rickie torpedoed me with his latest news flash. Maybe it will all make more sense as I try to go over it all from a new angle (well, new for this time of the day anyway). So Angel-leeksa, your family is really going to like adopt Rickie? Like for real? Like forever?! Like he will be the Chosen Chase Pet of the Week, or something? (Well he is housebroken after all and all his shots are current, so that part makes sense. But really, couldn't you guys have just gotten another cat this week instead? Named it Rickie Vasquez-Chase? So, just so it's all clear here, to like the horizontally-inclined, from now on he's to be addressed as Rickety Vasquez-Chase ? (Or will he just be keeping his maiden name?)

So, just what kind of trip are all you on now, Chase? I can't tell if Rickety has been sneaking around in the Katimsky medicine cabinet, or just what, because he's in like useless babble-on mode now (but BTW, have you noticed lately he's emitting those evil Katimsky-pauses now too ! I should warn you, and everybody else on set, that Emily has had just about enough of them, and is likely going to start slapping silly the next one who give her pause like that. I only hope its Kaminsky. So could the Chases maybe like find Rickie at least a cure for that, first thing? It's in everybody's, and Our Town's, best interest, I'm sure !) .. So is like your dad like just giving away the last of his best Dead stash ? Or what? What is it you people are serving for breakfast now over there anyway? But just to be extra-extra crystal-clear-like-meth here, Patty Cakes-Vasquez-Chase is in on all this, right? And speaking of witch, does she know Rickie is also planning on going into the restaurant business? And that would be your dad's, to start, as I understand him !

But hey, like who am I to be asking all these impertinent questions (word list followup! Used properly even, or close enough!) considering my current position and all. And, why do I keep hearing all these bells going off? Could it be .. shit. Everybody else seems to be hearing them too, so gotta run. Maybe I'll try that next after I get up first tho.

So let me know if a bedroom or closet or some attic space opens up in your house, for me.. well ehh, y'know, maybe on second thought

RayEmilyann

* * *

><p>Sharon! Gotta Help ! Please !<p>

Now we can say it's all officially out of control .. starting this morning, as in last nite. Its kinda hard to even describe but I think maybe you have to understand. Ok, to start with, apparently some kind of strange juju has settled over our house. And I'm afraid to think how long it might stay.

(So from here on, this will definitely not be for your mom's eyes, or ears). This morning, in like the very dead of night, my mom wakes up the house, and possibly much of Pennsylvania and the states next door, with these just like gawd-scaring screams ! And I am NOT exaggerating. I had no idea what it was or what was happening, out of a dead sleep. And it's not like I don't have my own dream issues. At first I thought maybe something was trying to scream our house down. I'm not kidding, Sharon. It's really like the scariest thing in the world, to hear your mom scream on like that (and more than once, last nite). I finally tried walking down the hallway, to their door, but they had it locked. I can tell you, though, my dad was pretty shook up after he came out for a little while. But he doesn't seem to know anything.

Okay, so that's how my day starts out. Way before breakfast even. And then, things just got like really strange, around the breakfast nook. No ones really daring to say a word, just staring at my mom, who is just like staring daggers at the cat when it would happened to chance by, but is otherwise in like this own little voodoo trance world of her own (my mom, not the cat).

Then, while she driving us both to school, she unloads with this, What would we think of the idea of maybe taking Rickie in with us for awhile. To live. As like something like this kind of exchange student we all already know and love. Except we can't ever exchange him. Ever. So, cool. And like we'll giving him his own room. Or, half room, right now, while we start to clear out some of the clutter build in my mom's upstairs business office! Rickie's going to moving in with the sacred upstairs business deduction files ! So, cool !

But at first I'm so speechless, I could hardly speak. So then I just like let out a scream of my own 'Yes ! Yes ! Cool ! mom !'. So then at school , she manages to corner Katimski. And she just has like this relentless look in her eye, like she's just going to wear him down no matter what .. then he gets this look in his eye, and then before you know it, they are all huddling with Rickie, who has like this look of total disbelief in his eye. So, Cool !

So then it's like voila! I now have my very own new half-brother, that I always wanted, but never asked for ! Cause now they're throwing around these words, like .. adoption! That sounds pretty formal, doesn't it, for just taking someone in for awhile. Even if they are sharing your family tax deduction files with him?

Okay, so I go to seek out, like who else, but JC, who's been like this sudden Mr. Lotharo and all, which is pretty nice, when he's around, except of course he's nowhere to be found. But I'm getting these vibes from around that he might have gotten an immediate suspension for like that dressing room thing. Have you heard anything about that, Sharon? I didn't try to call him last nite, but maybe I should have .. its just really what we don't need right now, if he's really suspended right now .. that can't be good. Oh brother, or half-brother

So but then behold, it's like Lord Byron, The Brian now that I've got riding the bus with me :) :)

Apparently he just can't stop writing, these .. sonnet somethings now. Like to me. Apparently. I thought it was one of Emily Dickinson's when I first read it, but when did she first start riding a school bus, or paint the moon over our street, so I finally figured it hadn't come from her. And one thing I've figured out, he really likes saying the name, Angela. (BTW, I Ascend! If you don't believe me, ask Lord Brian -wish I really could master that ascend thing, so nobody would see me around then, for a few days, but please forward me my mail) So .. I think I have to admit I really do like it and its all really quite beautiful, in its own Krakow-ish way. But hey, I dither! when I really should be ascending! to some way outta this :) :)

Please Sharon, until I completely master ascending, without leaving any forwarding address, maybe you could help me, and the house, and the cat, adjust to our new immediate family. Immediately, if thats possible. Before the insanity spreads.

A.

* * *

><p>Hey Brian,<p>

You and Emily D. are really something. I know she couldn't have liked your latest 'stuff' any more than I do. Thank you Brian ! It's just what I needed ... I'm still ascending !

But Sorry! (Again with all the Sorrys!) that I missed the bus ride this morning. I wanted to tell you maybe something about last night, in case you, or any of the rest of the neighborhood, could actually have missed it. But I'm getting pushed around here today like I'm everybody's favorite pinball machine distraction for the day. Again! Believe it or not, we've already talked it over today with Mr. Katimski, the vice-principal, the counseling center, Pa. Family Services, and a priest!. Oh and of course, Rickie ! Several times. And those are just the local authorities that I know about. Maybe somebody should be talking things over tho with Amber's astrologer too. And maybe even the sooner the better. (You don't think this family unit is like in dire need of counseling, do you? Well, just ask my mom, when she comes down out of the trees, or the church steeple, or whatever) Well, wait'll you get this latest little family newsflash! (in case you haven't already heard about it from a few dozen other unreliable sources) You're getting a new neighbor! And apparently very soon. He's like this most very adorable fella, likes to go by the name Rickie .. as in, y'know, like Vazquez. Yes, the same. I mean, can you believe this, that Rickie is going to be living with us now. At least we get a bit of the great news there! I did mention, permanently, didn't I? So, no big deal. However! Well quite frankly, Brian, you know my mom, I'm not sure she really has a clue how she's going to deal with all this. Y'know, she's really not that great with children, especially the gay kind. I'm kidding, but you should have seen how she had this string of rosary beads wrapped around her hands today. Talk about tense!

So then get this, I don't know if my mom even went into work today. She spent her whole afternoon in church, I'm pretty sure of that. Where else are you going to get rosary beads? And it was at that same church where we all attended Christmas services at last year, in fact. She seems to be talking about converting, Brian, I think, to a religion. At least I hoping its at least a religion. Cathological-ism, I think she was saying? .. well, I think my hearing was affected by last nite. And today. I hope its permanent.

But just all day! She was going on and on, about angels, and Angelas, and how she expects me now to be like.. so she brought home some extra rosaries, Brian ! My mom doesn't know anything about using a rosary. She'll probably do it all backwards and bring us all down with her. Well she also brought back all this church print work with her as well. So maybe she's got an angle, about new religious account leads or something.

Needless to say Brian, it's been a VERY STRANGE day. Sorry! I don't mean to whine like that. Again, its just that I can't honestly say I know what's going on in my own house anymore, Brian ! It was like my mom was announcing something last night, very loudly, with those horrible screams last night. Whatever it was, I guess maybe I should have seen it coming. She has been under like a lot of stress lately. It never made her scream like that before though. That I know of. I don't think it was on me, not like THAT anyway! - I'm pretty sure on that, or that it wasn't really even my dad or anything. Do you think it could maybe just like one of those deafening screams for help? Like they only come out at three in the morning, at the top of her lungs ? Well I'm sure, with all your family's background, you get the picture here, Brian. I mean like with your parents being in the counseling services and all.

So maybe, if it's all right with you, Brian, I could finally be returning some of your books to you this evening, ok? Maybe stop by your house? I'll just leave them with your folks though if you're not in. I always enjoy talking with them, if they like have some time to spare for me or something. Maybe we could all even have like some kind of living room chat some evening .. soon. I think that would be fun!

But I'll holding on to the Emily Dickinson book though, if that's OK. See you soon, Brian, certainly by the bus tomorrow, unless god knows what breaks out in the house overnight before then. Then it's off to the closest church for some kind of family exorcism. Hope it's not too late.

Angela


End file.
